


let them lose

by TuesdayTerrible



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, all the feels guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 09:02:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13314891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuesdayTerrible/pseuds/TuesdayTerrible
Summary: “It was an accident.”“It may have started that way.” Armin says, dipping one of his fries into the ketchup idly. “But we both know that's not what it is now.”“I just. I'm destroying everything. If I give them what they want- they lose.”“Let them lose.” Armin said, eyes serious. “If loving you is a loss, as you're so sure it is. Let them lose."//In other words, Eren's mind is a very, very dark place.





	let them lose

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [This Is Mouse Month](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2256255) by [avoidingavoidance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoidingavoidance/pseuds/avoidingavoidance). 



> Wow, okay um where do I start.
> 
> So I wrote most of this a month or so after I binged This is Mouse Month by avoidingavoidance some time last year.  
> Have a link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2256255/chapters/4953489
> 
> Which I dedicate this to her, since she was the source of inspiration, and if she prefers I delete it, I'm totally down for it- since I totally spun off her hard written master piece.  
> But see here, I'm the angst queen and while her work in this particular piece is more smut centric- I couldn't help but capitalize on the undertones of angst.  
> (And this is not me saying it's only smut because it isn't, she's one of my absolute favorite writers. Clearly, as I have literally never done something like this before.)  
> Because I love being so hurt I cant breathe or whatever.  
> It's fine. 
> 
> So to start with- go read that. You can read this without reading that butttt it'll be a thousand times better if you read her work first. 
> 
> Secondly, I had written this just for me, but after re-reading it and finishing it up today- I decided I was quite proud of it and I wanted to share.  
> But if she decides to read it, and prefers I like f*ck off, I apologize and am happy to remove it. Again. I just, really like hurting myself I guess.
> 
> So, Enjoy this thing I did.  
> Or...you know, dont. That's fine too.

 

It's been years since he was the junkie mess he told them about. But since the talk Eren feels worse than usual. He feels like he wears his past on his sleeve, and he supposes in some way he does considering the tattoos covering his needle mark scars only obstruct the damage, not get rid of it.

 

His boyfriends are kind and loving and supportive. They are perfect. But all of a sudden he feels like he's made of glass instead of flesh. And it's not that he doesn't trust them not to break him, except that's exactly what it is- he  _doesn't._ It is that fact that makes guilt twist unpleasantly in his ribs which causes his triggers to be a thousand times more random and to his dismay...more potent.

 

Today its the papers.

 

He comes home from work to see piles of papers scattered across the coffee table in seemingly disorganized little piles. Controlled chaos. Marco's.

 

_They work twice as hard as you do to become something worth while while you wasted your time shooting up._

 

The thought makes his breath catch in his throat before he can push it down. And all of a sudden Eren is not in his living room. But in his junkie commune, his heroin hotel, needle sunk deep into his skin and papers fluttering across the floor. If he stares long enough he can see Angie, just as gone as he is, mouthing words to one of his many unheard songs.

 

“Babe..you okay?”

 

It takes Eren close to a full minute to accept the kindness from Marco and not tense up. “It's hard.” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to Marco.

 

 _Controlling you instincts_ his brain supplies. “The work you and Jean do. You work so hard.”

 

 _It's not a lie._ He tells himself as Marco smiles relieved, his posture relaxing significantly. _It just wasn't what I was thinking_

 

“Fall semester is the worst for all of us. You get just as busy too.”

 

Eren bites back the comment that his work doesn't really come home with him. That he should have been more. That he should still be more. That maybe if he had done something productive instead of destroying everything in his path, maybe, just maybe, they could have loved him sooner.

 

 _You should be happy they learned to love you at all._ His brain adds cutting off the tyrant of self-loathing.

 

“Yeah.” Eren says pushing his lips into Marco's neck. “Just miss you guys.”

 

Marco sighs happily and indulges him a soft slow apologetic kiss before he resumes his position on the couch hunched over his papers.

 

_._

 

 

 

He's a terrible person. This isn't a new thought. Eren's had it for as long as he can remember- which depending on the day is pretty far back. It's an accepted thought as he stares in the mirror at his wild long hair and distraught green eyes. He pushes the long strands out of his face as he opens his lips and mouths the words hes been practicing in his head for days now. He watches as he makes the crooked smile that had worked on them, on everyone, for years- a smile that they now see through as if the dishonesty and discomfort were apparent instead.

 

 _Relax_ he coaches himself. _Marco has the most relaxed smile you know. Smile like that._

 

He manages to do it on his third try, and the pride that wells up doesn't even have time to reflect on his face before it is diminished by the tidal wave of guilt. He squares his shoulders meeting firm eyes in the mirror.

 

_Once a liar, always a liar._

 

Eren's hand run along the scar on his shoulder absently at the thought, his mind taking him back to a muggy evening, a back alley, and the sound of the knife carving into his shoulder. He only goes for a moment this time, shaking the image from his mind, stealing a glance at his phone. His boyfriends should be here soon.

 

.

 

They put up resistance as he knew they would. But in the grand scheme of things it went better than he thought. The fact that he actually got them to leave without him makes him feel some sense of relief.

 

Eren has been in a relationship with his pain much longer than he's been in a relationship with them. It is becoming increasingly obvious to him that he will eventually have to choose. He can see their eyes watchful on him when they think he isnt looking. He can see how even though they've relaxed since his confession, they still tip toe around him, afraid.

 

“Eren- baby, we don't want to leave you..are you sure?”

 

He had flashed them a brilliant smile, and it had surprised even himself that it wasn't forced. “Absolutely. You guys deserve a drink after the week you've had.”

 

They glance at each other with their ten year telepathy that has always comforted him. He can see it, the raise of the eyebrows, the tugs of a frown. They aren't happy about it, but they agree to go promising to return early and watch Adventure Time with him.

 

He waits five minutes after they leave to collapse onto the couch. The mound of papers litter the coffee table _again_ and he has to stifle the urge to send them spiraling to the floor, his eyes swimming with tears and clouding his view.

 

He wanted the opportunity to love them. It's all he ever wanted. Its only recently occurred to him that maybe there was a reason they hadn't loved him before. He had taken something beautiful and had obscured it with nothing more than his exsistance.

 

 _You're_ _poison_ his mind consciously supplies.

 

Eren moves with unsteady hands to make coffee, desperate for the warm comfort that makes him drowsy, it only takes a minute- but in the time it does take, his limbs are quaking against his will. He pours the pot with an unsteady hand, his breathing uneven as he sloshes coffee on his free hand braced against the counter and all over the counter top. The pain is alarming- so piercing it does something only excessive alcohol and heroins ever been able to. It quiets his mind.

 

And he blanks out completely.

 

When he comes to he's sitting on the couch with his head in hand, somewhere between awake and asleep. It's the bandages against his cheek that cause him to startle in alarm, and whip his head towards the clock.

 

 _You've only lost 90 minutes._ His brain supplies.

 

Eren's lost more on less he realizes. The king of auto piloting through life. He must have gone to the corner store and picked up some bandages for his burn. But if his memory is right- he only burnt one of his hands...and yet both are wrapped. The thought is a bit concerning, it isn't until he looks in his breast pocket before he's able to piece together what hes done.

 

The panic sits in with big gaping breaths- but his brain works in his favor for once- comforting him.

 

_You've_ _done worse things. They wont know. You've been practicing. It's okay._

 

“It's okay.” Eren says to himself. Nothing is okay.

 

.

 

He doesn't get triggered for almost two weeks. He's _almost_ forgotten about the excessive self hate and doubt that live in the dark recesses of his mind. That is until he's on his way home from work and he can hear Marco and Jean going at it through the door. They never fight, not really and the sound is alarming. His hand is on the door and yet he cant bring himself to enter- instead he stands there listening like a stranger outside of his home.

 

_You are a stranger. They have a decade on you Eren. An entire decade._

 

“When was the last time you were intimate with him? He's avoiding us Marco.” Jeans voice is hissed.

 

“It's...its been a while.” Marco mumbles, to the point Eren has to strain against the door to hear his reply. “That doesn't mean we can just bombard him Jean, you need to be patient.” Marco's kind voice is clipped, barely excising restraint.

 

“He's not asking for anything any more.” Jean is angry. Eren can picture his face now, jaw clenched, eyes glazed with unshed tears. “And his hands...he wont unwrap his hands Marco..what if...”

 

“I know.”

 

He hadn't even realized hed stopped being intimate with them. He spaces again, his hand barely touching the door, remembering just over a month ago, Jeans strangled sobs of guilt. Jeans panic attack to his confession. The way Jean carried guilt over something he wasn't even aware of. Gaping tear soaked breaths. Somehow he's still breaking them, its a grounding feeling.

 

_They cant be at odds because of me. I can fix it._

 

That night when he lays between them, stuffed and raw, hands burning beneath bandages, he hears them kiss roughly and apologetically above his quaking form. That is the trigger that sends him spiraling over the edge, cock completely untouched.

 

.

 

The sunlight is pouring in from the window when Eren stirs the next morning. Jean is gone, at work most likely but he can see Marco is staring at him- his face stark white and.... well he's to tired to formulate the word, but it's not good.

 

_Stupid boy, why else would he be looking at you like that?_

 

His left hand has come unwrapped and the back of his hand is littered with perfect circles, some scarred white already- while others are red and hot and open from infection. The wound is unmistakable. It can not be passed off as anything else.

 

He sits up abruptly drawing the hand to his chest, wrapping the bandage hazardously in attempts to obscure Marco's view. Auto pilot. As if it isn't to late.

 

 _Disgusted_ his brain supplies. _That's the word you were looking for earlier_

 

Marco continues to look at him, his eyes are wet with tears and it hurts Eren in a way he hadn't expected. He's seen Marco cry before, big sloppy heartfelt tears. He's seen Marco wrecked in the best ways possible. He has never seen Marco like this.

 

He knows that look. He's seen that look so many times on his own face he can recognize it instantly.

 

 _And you did that to him._ His brain supplies once again.

 

The pain twists in his gut so hard, he thinks he's going to actually throw up right there on the sheets between them. He cant stand to look at his boyfriend before him, but he cant seem to force himself to look away. He lets the shame he feels comfort him like a blanket, as he watches Marco's pale crest fallen expression, lips trembling to form words.

 

 _“What are we doing wrong?”_ Marco's voice comes out as a sob, his limbs shaking as his fingers move to grasp Eren's forearms desperately, careful despite his grief, to avoid Erens hands. “Tell me how to fix this. _Please baby._ Ill do _a-anything.”_

 

_He cant._

 

“I'm so sorry.” Eren says. “I'm sorry I-”

 

He lets the I love yous die on his lips in the space between them, and instead takes the time to count the freckles on Marco's face. This proves to be a difficult task considering the tears masking his vision- but he's pretty sure its twenty. He wished he had bothered to count before.

 

“Marco this is nothing.” He says finally, his voice deceptively steady as he somehow manages to remove himself from Marco's arms “I...need to go meet with Armin for lunch. We'll talk later okay?” He pauses at the door, but doesn't turn to face him. “I promise, this is nothing.”

 

_It's not nothing._

 

_._

 

“So is this going to be your new thing.”

 

Armins voice is colder than Eren expected as he shoves a french fry in his mouth, more so to avoid talking for just another moment more. He doesn't need to ask what, the blondes gaze falling to his poorly wrapped hands.

 

“It was an accident.”

 

“It may have started that way.” Armin says, dipping one of his fries into the ketchup idly. “But we both know that's not what it is now.”

 

“I just. I'm destroying everything. If I give them what they want- they lose.”

 

“Let them lose.” Armin said, eyes serious. “If loving you is a loss, as you're so sure it is. Let them lose. It's what they want. You want to love them don't you? Why cant you just...”

 

The unfinished sentence hangs between them, and all the words of protest die on Eren's lips. Who is he to decide what makes them happy, if they want to risk misery for a chance at something more? Hadn't he done almost the exact same thing the day he told Jean to ask Marco out? Hadn't he even been a catalyst in his own demise? In their happiness?

 

“They look at me like I'm weak.”

 

“You ARE weak Eren.”

 

_Am I?_

 

“Is that what addicts are Armin?” Eren bites back, slamming up from his chair. “This weak has-been of a human is to _weak_ huh?”

 

Armin simply raises an eyebrow at him completely unfazed and it makes his blood burn. “You're weak because you don't know how to survive in your own skin. It has nothing to do with your past.”

 

Eren winced turning his attention down. “I should go.”

 

Arimin sighs before nodding slowly. “Eren, it's okay to be happy you know. Not everything has to be catastrophically different just because you've....”

 

 _Come clean_ his brain snickers.

 

“...learned to be honest with them.”

 

Eren bites his lip as he stares towards his oldest and wisest friend.

 

 _“_ That's the _problem..._ I'm not different.”

 

 _They are._ His brain adds. They're buckling under the weight of...of me.

 

Armin stares at him with wide eyes, and it occurs to Eren that he had said more than perhaps he wanted. He pales softly before rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

 

“So yeah... in the end Ill probably have to.” The sudden stab to his ribs is so painful, he has to suck in a large breath before he's able to force the words out. “I'll have to let them go. I just..they do love me. So. I just have to...slowly y'know? I want them to remember that there was...a before me. That it was beautiful. I don't want them to feel guilt and....responcibile and...they were happy and now theyre not.”

 

It isn't until Armin brushes a hand across his tear stained cheeks does he realize he's been crying, collapsing into the blondes unstable embrace.

.

 

He has to go home at some point. Yet he doesn't know how. He doesn't know how to come back from this because this is worse than it being in the past. This is now. He runs a finger through black hair as he stares up at the familiar cracks in Armins ceiling.

 

He's hiding. When did he become such a coward? He was many things. But a coward wasnt usaully one of them. He mouths the words he's been practicing, slow and calm despite the knot pressing into his chest at every inaudible syllable.

 

I think we should end this.

 

_Say it like you're ripping off a band-aid. Get it over with._

 

The knot intensifies like a knife to his gut. He finds it to be an accurate comparison since he's actually been stabbed before.

 

_I rather die than say that._

 

The realization is startling causing tears to burn his eyes and immediately cloud his vision. Eren had never been suicidal. Stupid. Bent on getting high, sure. But over dosing had never been an effort at ending his life. Doing drugs and drinking had never been an attempt to end his life. Even burning his hands had never been an attempt on ending his life. But this. If he had to give them up hed rather....

 

 _You're_ _so fucking dramatic._ His brain supplies.

 

 _But its true._ He adds unable to help himself. _I cant do it._

 

_Than its what better for you. Or Whats better for them._

 

The choice isnt as obvious as you might think.

 

.

 

He finds himself sitting in the old tree just a block or so away from where he grew up. The tree is massive and stands on an empty lot in between two neighboring houses. When he closes his eyes he can remember sitting up here with Jean, who had goaded him into jumping when they were barely teenagers. He had always been reckless. This was stupid. Armin would be furious. Mikasa would be furious. His mother...he couldn't think about his mother.

 

_What did she ever do to deserve someone as shitty as me?_

 

He manages to flick his phone open as he stares towards Marco's number. He knows he has a night class tonight and that he probably wont answer. Still. He's not sure why he hits send and lets the phone ring when the voicemail is inevitable.

 

It's not until he hears the familiar tone of Marco's voice does he realize why. The how was inconsequential. He just wanted to hear him one more time. As the voice fades away and is replaced by the beep does it only occur to him that he doesnt know what to say.

 

“Hey.” He says his voice sounding lost and pathetic even to his own ears. “I um. I guess I don't really know why I called. Geez. This is...not how I imagined it would go.” He bites the corner of his thumb as he stares down at the branch supporting his weight and the rope wrapped around it, before clearing his throat and continuing. “I..I think I'm being selfish. Well... maybe...not entirely but...mostly...yeah. Fuck I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm just....so... sorry.... None of _this..._ its not your fault. That's really important. It's not yours. Or jeans. Its...just not. That's...really all I got.” He exhales slowly, moving his phone to see how much time he had prattled on, before putting it back against his ear. “I love you.”

 

He ends the call before he can say anything else as he flicks through his contacts. One more. Just...one more. His hand is shaking as he hovers over Jeans name and hits send.

 

“Eren.” Jean answers almost immediately. He sounds tense, Eren realizes.

 

_Thats mostly your fault you know._

 

“Where have you been? Marco and I havent heard from you since _yesterday_ when you said you were going to eat with Armin....”

 

“Sorry.” Eren says trying to keep his voice even. He closes his eyes and imitates Marco's calm voice. Calm smile. Calm. Calm. Calm. “I ended up staying with Armin while I worked through some stuff.”

 

He can hear Jean struggling to keep his temper. The huff of breath. He can see the brows furrowed in concern, and he feels a smile tugging at his own lips despite everything. God he loves this boy.

 

“Hey...do you remember that tree you said I couldn't jump out of?” Eren says allowing the nostalgia to wash over him.

 

He can literally feel Jean relax from over the phone, a small snicker coming from the other end.

“The one you broke your arm jumping out of just to prove me wrong?

 

“Yeah.” Eren says. “I thought back than I could do anything as long as it was...for you. Be it to prove you wrong. Or ...protect you. I realized today I think I still can do anything if I thought it was..” He pauses swallowing tightly. “If I thought it was for the best for you. And Marco. And if that thing happened to be selfish too...that wouldn't be so terrible right?. ”

 

“Eren.” Jean says and Eren swears he can hear the gears turning, trying to understand the underlying sentiment. “We've told you. It's okay to be selfish sometimes. You know you don't have to worry about...”

 

His phone beeps and he lifts it away from his head to see that Marco is calling.

 

 _He shouldn't be calling._ He ignores it.

 

“Im sorry.” Eren says interrupting, and laughing as he does so. He inwardly winces though at how tight and raw and forced it sounds even to his own ears. “I just, I saw the tree earlier today and it made me _happy._ Weird I guess.”

 

“No, no.” Jean says quick to comfort him. “It was a funny memory. Minus the breaking of your arm part.” He pauses, his voice dropping an octave. “You've always been so easy to rile up.” Than he hears it, an awkward pause between sentences.

 

“Hey, Marco's calling.” Jean says after a beat. “Strange class shouldn't be over yet.”

 

He knows what he's suppose to say.

 

_He's not ready._

 

“Go on.” Eren says. “I'll...”

 

_He cant say Ill talk to you later._

 

“I..” He corrects. “...I love you Jean.”

 

“Just hold on a minute” Jean mutters before the line goes quiet.

 

Eren laughs despite the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “Asshole.” He laughs before hanging up the phone and than laughs even harder despite himself when he does.

 

_Who would have thought my last words would be asshole?_

 

_It's kinda suiting though...isnt it?_

 

He slides the noose over his neck and runs his fingers over the rope, cataloging the texture of it beneath the pads of his fingers. His bandages are removed, his scars revealed- there's nothing to be ashamed of any more. He stares at the screen as Marco's name appears on his phone, being intercepted by Jean, the two calls cancelling each other out. He cant help but smile as he presses the screen to his lips, and turns off the power button to watch it go dark.

 

_I love you. Gods do I love you._

 

And than he jumps.

 

 

.

 

“Jean” Marco's voice is choking and strangled on the verge of hysterics as he runs a hand through his black hair in frustration. “His voicemail. It's not good. He's not good. It sounded like...” his voice quakes. “Like he was saying goodbye.”

 

Jean's dense but he can feel the weight of the implication through the tremble in his lovers voice and the sinking feeling in his gut as Eren reminisced with him instead of talking about what was wrong.

 

“He couldn't say it” Jean whispers, thinking back to the conversation that was working on 15 minutes ago, each second adding to another that they could lose Eren. If they hadn't already. He can still hear Eren's voice

 

_“I'll....I....I love you.”_

 

“He couldn't say he'd talk to me later.” Jeans voice becomes so tight than and Marco hears a slam on the other side of the phone. He knows Jeans knocked something over, and he can hear him screaming something like _and I didn't even say it back..fuck fuck fuck_ and it has Marco sliding down the wall helplessly as something shatters on the other end of the phone.

 

“Jean.” He says trying desperately to get his loves attention, though his voice quakes and is much louder bouncing off of the hallways in the college hall. His class dismissed early after he'd heard Eren's voicemail with slightly unstable instructions to read to chapter 7 and now its just Marco with nothing but his unease to keep him company.

 

A sniffle signals Jeans returned to the phone, though not much else is said other than uneasy breathing.

 

“Think. Think what did he talk to you about they could have been...maybe he said something that would tell you...”

 

“He just...talked about that stupid tree that the two of us use to sit in when we were younger.”

It sort of hits him like a rock than, a punch in the gut, and the sound that comes out of his mouth has Marco bristling on the other end of the line.

 

Jean hangs up his phone without explanation and takes off without another thought.

 

.

 

It's worse than he could have ever imagined. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he answers it with shaky hands turning away from the nightmare in front of him.

 

“Jean.” Marco's voice rings from the other end, breathless. “I know the place I have Mikasa with me- we're almost there is-”

 

“Dont come.” Jean screams, a frantic choked gurgling sound following, his entire frame trembling. “Dont fucking come. Dont.”

 

There's something to be said about pulling up _just_ in time to watch police men cut your lovers corpse down from a fucking tree. And there's no mistake, even though the only light is a dimly lit streetlight, and the cops flashing lights- there's no mistake the body is Eren's. Jean has known it to well, to intimately, for denial to be a factor. He knows those beat up converses, the holy old wife beater, that dark complexion anywhere. The problem is those once brilliant green eyes are lifeless and Jean's never seen Eren's body be that still- not once- even while sleeping.

 

The thought rocks him and he's on his knees, dry heaving and sobbing. He feels like his insides are trying to burst out. He cant breathe, cant see- can barely register a hand on his back, let alone the grass beneath his knees.

 

“Do you know this man? I'm sorry if this is hard for you sir but can you identify-”

 

The voices over lap each other until Jean is finally able to comply. He's forced to look at his corpse because that's what this is now. This isn't Eren. Eren wasn't still like this- with lifeless green eyes and his...god his neck. He closes his eyes and somehow manages to bite out a cross between devastated and enraged. “Its Eren. Eren Jeager.”

 

He's moved around giving contact numbers and other generic information, moving on complete auto pilot despite the trembles that wont stop, and the tears that wont stop obstructing his vision. Another officer pulls him aside and Jeans ready to resite the same spiel of addresses and numbers when he turns to stare at her surprisingly tender face.

 

“This isn't going to sound pleasant.” the female officer, Petra- says kindly. “But I think it may be good for you to know in the long haul. It was a clean drop. Quick. He likely didn't suffer very much.”

 

Jean blinks at her incredulously. “All he did was suffer.”

 

And here we are, cue Marco on the other end of the phone asking Jean whats going on, and he can hear it- Mikasa's phone ringing in the background and Jean knows- he just knows what's going to be on the end of that call. Not even thirty seconds later does he hear the squeal of brakes and Mikasa screaming, _screaming_ at Marco to get the fuck out.

 

Jean somehow manages to find his voice. “Where'd she drop you?” He says rubbing the tear tracks off his face. “I'll come get you.”

 

He can hear the fragile numbness of Marco's voice- as if a piece of Marco was now missing. As if Eren, in his attempt to rid himself of this world, had merely reached into his chest and tucked it away in his pocket. Jean thinks if he was able, he might find something of his in there as well. Something, he too will never be able to get back.

 

.

 

It becomes a game of whom can out due the other in guilt, each of them reliving Eren's last month since his confession over and over again because how else could things have descended into madness so quickly? So they go over and replay how close to normal everything was up until his final days.

 

He hid it so well. Jean wants to hate him for it. He does. He wants to punch him in the jaw and grapple him into a head lock and....fall apart against his chest. Eren should have known he couldn't bear this burden. He should have known what this would do.

 

Marco pushes the food around on his plate. Jean wants to tell him to eat, but he cant bring himself to when the food looks just as unappetizing to him.

 

“Come on.” Jean manages. Somehow. “Funerals in 10.”

 

They leave the plates sitting untouched on the table.

 

.

 

“Jean! You- you're the one he called last!”

 

Carla Jeager smacks him. Hard.

 

The thought _that's where Eren gets it from_ runs through his head- and that- more so than the hit makes tears well up in his eyes.

 

“Why- why why didnt you do anything? H-he was your _friend.”_

 

He blinks but he doesn't do anything but stand their and take it, head turned to the side from the force of her hit- tears sliding heavily down his cheeks. Mikasa cant look at them, not even her mother, but manages to restrain her shaking raised arm with a silent shake of the head- eyes only able to stare at the ground.

 

Marco is by his side and he gently caresses Jeans red cheek, but Jean shrugs it off.

 

 _I deserve this_. His body screams shaking under Mrs. Jeager's brokenly heated glare. _I deserve every bit of this._

 

Marco, good, sweet, wonderful, kind, caring, perfect, Marco- finds words everyone seems to be lacking. “We loved him too.” his voice is quiet, cautious- and undeniably broken. “We loved him too.”

 

And she knows. Jean can tell by the way she's looking at him, and seeing not who he is now but who he was. He's the twelve year old boy hanging out in the tree with her son. She sees the teenagers who raided her pantry always leaving her frowning at the mess on the table. She sees the boys she had to turn the hose on more than once because of their intense rough housing. Of course she knows. Maybe not how. But the how is irrelevant now. The only thing that matters now is that every one standing here loves Eren Jeager with every ounce of their being.

 

And he no longer exists to love any of them back.

 

The thought sends Jean to his knees along with Carla Jeager- her arms wrapped around him somehow, and she sobs into his chest which somehow makes him sob even harder against her dark hair- dark hair that reminds him so- so much of Eren, he lets out this inhumane whine that reminds him vaguely of a dying animal.

 

It will never end. He thinks. The pain will never stop.

 

.

 

It's so quiet in their apartment now.

 

Jeans taken up sleeping on the couch- not because he doesnt want to be with Marco- but because he cant stand the scent of Eren still lingering in the sheets. He cant even go in there to get his things without feeling like his heart might actually palpate out of his chest. The bedroom was far more painful than the living room was to Jean.

 

As he kisses Marco goodnight and makes a beeline for the couch. He watches as Marco gives him a helplessly tight smile before crawling into their bed and flipping his phone open. Jean knows what he's going to do, and his body is tightening, bracing for the impact of whats surely going to happen next.

 

He never considered Marco a masochist until....this happened.

 

He does it every night, and no matter how much Jean wants to get up and slam the bedroom door, or how much he wants to throw Marco's phone against the wall, or go out and buy the biggest heaviest sound proof head phones ever- anything- to spare himself the pain- he finds that he cant.

 

“ _Hey. I um. I guess I don't really know why I called. Geez. This is...not how I imagined it would go.”_

 

The _pain_ in Eren's voice is the thing that makes Jean huddle farther down into the couch. The dazed hopeless pain as he tries to formulate his last words to Marco, knowing damn well they are his last words to him.

 

“You're a masochist.” Jean says unable to help himself. His voice is cracking, and this is the part where Eren pauses and than...clears his throat. The sound loud in the unnaturally quiet apartment.

 

_“I..I think Im being selfish. Well... maybe...not entirely but...mostly...yeah. Fuck I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm just....so... sorry.... None of this...its not your fault. That's really important. It's not yours. Or jeans. Its...just not. That's...really all I got.”_

 

He wonders if Eren really thought that would absolve them of their guilt. Jean's so angry now, he doesnt know what to do about it, tears are streaming down his face as he stares at the coffee table, kicking it over forcefully, someones- probably Marco's papers- fluttering to the floor of the living room.

 

Marco doesnt move from the bedroom, doesnt even breathe. He just waits to hear the only part of the message that is truly worth hearing. The only part of all this that Marco wants to remember. The noise of the disturbed table ending just as Eren's voice fills the apartment.

 

“ _I love you.”_

 

Marco shuts his phone- his voice feels very loud though he knows he is whispering into the thick tension filled agony of their apartment- that was somehow no longer a home.

 

“I love you too Eren.”

 

 

.

 

It's expected that Jean self-destruct, though as far as self-destruction goes- getting black out wasted on his off days really isnt that bad considering. He hardly ever touches the stuff on a work week. But there's some nights, like the nights he hears Marco crying alone in the tub- or the nights when Marco's sitting cross-legged on the couch in one of his over-sized sweatshirts smelling like Eren and flipping through Eren's notebook, it's those nights Jean breaks his rule and walks right back out the door to get alcohol.

 

Jean wants to pretend he didnt exist. Though only alcohol kind of allows him to kind of do that. Marco on the other hand, seems to want to poke the wound, and remember, as if he allows himself a moment to stop hurting, Eren will really seize to exist.

 

_Except he already doesnt exsist. Because he's dead._

 

“Let's watch adventure time.” Marco says emerging from the bathtub, skin pale and face rather taunt. “Please?”

 

Jean sighs heavily, the pressure behind his eyes building, as he pours himself a drink. “When was the last time you ate Marco?”

 

Silence follows before he responds softly. “I think I had an apple earlier. I don't really remember.” The silence grows before he deadpans. “ You don't have to watch.”

 

“I'll watch.” Jean says clinking the ice in his glass of whiskey. “But you have to eat something yea?”

 

“You shouldnt drink.” Marco bites back, which causes Jean to raise an eyebrow in dark amusement. He supposes hunger will do that to you.

 

“Correction, I couldnt drink.” the _when he was here_ isnt spoken, but its so heavily implied, Marco looks even paler before Jean finishes with “Now I can.”

 

The tension between them is thick as Marco curls into Jean's side, though he imagines it's reluctant. Neither of them wear their grief really well it seems. Jean's filled to brim with to many hostile emotions he's never sure which one will bubble to the surface first and Marco...Marco drowning in guilt.

 

Guilt because he didn't answer the phone, because if he had, maybe he could do what Jean couldn't.

 

“I'm sorry.” Jean says as the credits begin to role across the screen, the ice in the cup chattering from his shaking left hand.

 

“What?” Marco says looking at him dazed and confused.

 

“I'm sorry Marco. You...You were working and I answered and I couldnt...” Jean bites his lip so hard, blood runs down his chin. “I didn't even say...I didn't even know. I'm sorry I couldn't stop it. It's not your fault. It's mine. Just like.. .just like before. It's always me being an insensitive jerk. It should have been me Marco, not him. I should be the-”

 

 

The hand that comes across Jean's cheek is so hard and so sudden Jean blinks.

 

“Dont you dare. Dont you dare say it should be you.” Marco's voice is hissed and tears are pouring down his face. “I love you you asshole. He made a choice. And it was...it was the wrong choice. And there's nothing we can do about it now. But I still love him. I'll always love him, just like i'll always love _you.”_

 

They make love longer and harder and sweeter than they have in a long time, and when they reached their peaks- his name was still jumbled in the mixture of each others.

 

.

 

The clock blinks 2am when he hears adventure time start up from the living room. His heart clenches in his chest so hard he thinks he's going to vomit, and he rips the sheets off of him with such fierceness, the tv out front goes silent before he stomps into the living room.

 

And there on the couch are his two boy friends cuddled up watching Eren's stupid show.

 

“Sorry.” Eren mutters over Marco's hair. “Did I wake you?”

 

And Jean falls to his knees.

 

The thud of his knees against the carpet has Eren and Marco jumping to a stand and to his side as he struggles for a breath.

 

_It was just a dream._

 

He crushes Eren to his chest so hard, the brunette gasps as Jean plants wet tears soaked kisses against his cheek, forehead, jaw.

 

“Dont ever leave us. Dont ever leave us. Dont.”

 

“I-” Eren sputters overwhelmed and confused, raking shaky fingers through his hair.

 

“Promise. Swear it.”

 

“Jean where is this coming from?” Marco says rubbing his back gently as his gaze meets Eren's helplessly.

 

“Swear it Eren. Swear it.”

 

“I wont leave Jean.” Eren whispers his voice quiet. “I wont. I swear.”

 

He falls back asleep on the floor against Eren's lap nestled safely between the two of them, exactly as it should be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> And look, I ended it happily.  
> Surprised?  
> Yeah me too.  
> But. But. But.  
> I had my reasons.  
> :P  
> Hope you guys enjoyed.


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